The Javvie Clause
by LesMisLoony
Summary: COMPLETE! Javert accidentally knocks Père Noël off the roof of the police station and has to become Santa. He undergoes a HUGE character change and gets rather fat.
1. On the Night Before Christmas

Disclaimer - I do not own Les Mis, its wonderful characters, the North Pole, or Bernard (although in a few years, when I'm Mrs. Bernard, I can say that I do . . . in a sense.)  
  
A/N - For the record, I think that The Santa Clause 2 is a stupid attempt by Disney to get more money off a wonderful movie they made eight years earlier. I would go into detail explaining my theory in Bernard (the first movie had the real elf Bernard as himself, the second had an actor who kinda looked like him . . .) but that has little or less to do with my fic. So . . . carry on.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
"For the last time, gamin, get OUT OF THIS STATION!" Javert shouted at the top of his lungs.  
  
That gamin had been spending way too much time around the police station lately. Inspector Javert was ready to put him in for a few months if he liked it that much. Suddenly the front window exploded into flying shards of glass and a large rock landed on Javert's desk.  
  
"GAMIN! Get your sorry self in this station IMMEDIATELY!"  
  
The boys words drifted into the jail on the cold winds whipping through the window - "Oh, so now you want me."  
  
"Just come HERE!"  
  
Javert was ready to crack. The little gamin sauntered in the door, saying, "So, monsieur, you called?"  
  
"AAAAARGH!"  
  
Javert grabbed the boy by his dirty shirt collar and threw him into the nearest open cell, slamming the barred door after him.  
  
"My, my, Inspector, what has you in such a temper lately?"  
  
Javert knew that he had been much angrier than usual lately. He also knew why. His new young recruit, the one he had had plenty of hope for, had just quit.  
  
It had occurred to Javert that he was getting old and would be gone. When he died, he wanted someone to carry on his legacy and his greatest mission - to catch Jean Valjean, escaped convict 24601.  
  
"Ow, Inspector. I hit a soft spot, didn't I?" the gamin laughed after a moment of Javert's retrospective silence.  
  
"That's it, gamin. You aren't going home today or tomorrow," Javert announced with finality.  
  
"But Inspector! Tomorrow is Christmas, and Père Noël won't come unless I go home! This year I've been . . . um . . ."  
  
"You see, gamin, you wouldn't get any presents anyway," Javert snorted. "Wait . . . you have a home?"  
  
"Yes, m'sieur. I have a family what goes by Jondrette - I mean Thénardier . . . Fabantou? I don't know. But I have a father, a mother, and two sisters," the gamin began.  
  
"Thénardier? I seem to know of him. Will they miss you tonight and tomorrow?"  
  
"No, m'sieur. I don't much go home."  
  
"Well, gamin, make yourself comfortable. It's here you stay," Javert decided.  
  
"M'sieur, can you stop calling me 'gamin'? I mean, I know I am one, but could you call me by my Christian name?"  
  
"And what would that be?"  
  
"Gavroche, m'sieur," the boy responded earnestly.  
  
"Alright, Gavroche," Javert sneered, "I will have to stay the entire night anyway, so make yourself comfortable."  
  
"Yes, m'sieur! I will! Thank you!"  
  
He began to speak so quickly that no one could possibly have understood a word. "Mypapawon'tmissmeeventhoughI'mnothome-"  
  
"Gam- Gavroche. Just shut up."  
  
"I will m'sieur, if . . . " Gavroche smiled evilly.  
  
"If what?" Javert asked warily.  
  
"If you'll tell me a Christmas story."  
  
"NO."  
  
"-AndmymamannevernoticeswhenIamhomeuntilIgethungry-"  
  
"ALRIGHT!" That was just plain annoying. "'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring not even a mouse . . ."  
  
Javert continued on in a monotone.  
  
"Pardon, m'sieur?"  
  
"I sprang from my- WHAT?"  
  
"What's a rose suchik ladder?"  
  
"Rose. Such. A. Clatter. It means . . . 'there came a big noise.'"  
  
"Alright then, carry on."  
  
"I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter-"  
  
"M'sieur?"  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"You have anger issues, m'sieur," the boy began, "but I thought you should know that that's a very nice poem. Did you write it?"  
  
Javert winced. "Yes . . . I did."  
  
"Oh. It's nice. Don't tell it to just anyone though. Someone could steal it and publish it and you'd get no credit," the boy said knowingly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"What?" Gavroche replied blankly.  
  
Javert rolled his eyes.  
  
"Carry on," said the boy.  
  
Javert did, using a bit more emotion.  
  
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight. The end," he finally announced.  
  
Gavroche snored.  
  
Javert put his feet on his desk, his arms behind his head, and tried to sleep. 


	2. And Out on the Lawn

A/N - Yes. Javert wrote The Night Before Christmas. DEAL WITH IT.  
  
Disclaimer - I do not own The Night Before Christmas, all previous disclaimers also apply.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Javert was rudely awakened by something shaking him.  
  
"M'sieur, I heard a clatter!"  
  
"A what?"  
  
"You know, 'and out on the lawn there arose such a clatter'? I heard a clatter!"  
  
Javert rolled his eyes. "That, gam . . . vroche . . . is ridiculous. No one would dare try to break into my police station. Wait - how did you get out of the cell?"  
  
Gavroche smiled evilly. "I'd tell you, but then the Patron-Minette would have to kill you."  
  
There was a thud from the roof.  
  
Javert leapt to his feet. "What was that?"  
  
"A clatter!" Gavroche exclaimed.  
  
Javert hushed Gavroche, looking toward the broken window. "I want to catch him in the act."  
  
"Um . . . m'sieur, don't you think that someone trying to break in would come through the broken window?"  
  
Javert blinked. "No, fool! That would be what I would expect him to do. It must be a hardened criminal."  
  
"I have two more questions, then. One, what's to steal in here?"  
  
Good point, Javert thought. "Erm . . . you. It's the Patron-Minette, come to bust you out."  
  
"No, they wouldn't come to bust me out. I can take care of myself. I got out of the cell, didn't I?"  
  
Javert had to agree.  
  
"Anyhow, the Patron-Minette isn't so stupid as to pass by a perfectly good broken window. They'd never try to get through the roof, which leads to my second question."  
  
"Which is . . .?"  
  
"How are they going to get in from the roof?"  
  
Gavroche had him, and the inspector knew it. "Let's just go out and see who it is."  
  
"Yes!"  
  
The two stepped into the ankle deep snow and looked toward the roof. They could see nothing from that angle. Gamin and inspector backed slowly across the street, and what they saw brought them both to a sudden halt.  
  
On the roof sat a sleigh with eight reindeer hitched to it. A fat man wearing red leaned inside, extracting a large brown bag.  
  
"What's this! Who are you?" Javert shouted.  
  
"It's Père Noël, m'sieur!"  
  
Javert scoffed. "There is no such thing as Père Noël, Gavroche. Who are you? GET OFF MY STATION, OR IT'S JAIL FOR YOU!"  
  
Gavroche was objecting to the idea of throwing Father Christmas in jail when the fat man turned around quickly, lost his footing, and fell into the snow two stories below him.  
  
Gavroche screamed. "Père Noël! You killed Père Noël!"  
  
"Stand back, Gavroche. This is an inspector's job."  
  
Javert walked to the snow bank and began kicking the stranger's shoe. "Oy there! Get up!"  
  
No response.  
  
"He's dead! You killed Père Noël!"  
  
"SHUT. UP. STUPID. GAMIN!"  
  
"Gosh, sorry."  
  
"That's better," Javert sighed.  
  
"Père Noël killer," Gavroche whispered.  
  
Luckily for Gavroche's health, Javert did not hear this. He went back to terrorizing the man's boot. "Are you alive or not?"  
  
No response.  
  
"Listen, m'sieur, if you can hear me, I'm just looking for a clue as to who you are."  
  
Javert reached into the man's pockets and drew out a card. It was white, the edges decorated with an annoying red border. In the center is read:  
  
Père Noël Le Pol Nord  
  
Javert turned the card over. "'Put on my suit. The reindeer will know what to do'? This is insane!"  
  
A/N- When Javert jumped off the bridge, he was in-Seine! Hahahahahahahaha . . . got that from the folks at Le Café.  
  
Javert groaned. If this man was dead there would be an endless pile of paperwork and explaining to do.  
  
Gavroche, still on the street, shouted. "Where'd he go?"  
  
Javert looked up. In the snow lay the red suit and boots - empty.  
  
"Mon Dieu! He's running about naked somewhere!"  
  
Javert paced back and forth, ignoring a gasp from Gavroche. His head cracked against something. "What the ---- was that?"  
  
He looked up. A red ladder stretched to the roof.  
  
Gavroche squealed excitedly and ran to the ladder.  
  
"Look! The Rose Suchik Ladder Company!" the boy cried, reading a plaque on one of the rungs.  
  
"The what?"  
  
"Rose Suchik Ladder! Out on the lawn was a Rose Suchik Ladder!"  
  
"What madness is this?" Javert shouted.  
  
Gavroche began climbing the ladder.  
  
"No, Gavroche, you are my responsibility. Get down from that ladder now. NOW!"  
  
Gavroche was already on the roof. Javert grabbed the empty clothes and climbed up after him.  
  
The reindeer were very terrifying up close. Javert shuddered.  
  
Gavroche had climbed into the sleigh.  
  
"Gavroche! Get out of there NOW!"  
  
Gavroche smiled. "I will, if . . . "  
  
That sense of dread crept back up Javert's spine. "If what?"  
  
"You put on the suit."  
  
"Out of the question," Javert said with finality.  
  
"Think of all the paperwork it would take to explain my absence during your watch . . ."  
  
"Alright, d--- it, gamin, I'll do it."  
  
Gavroche smiled. To see Javert dressed like Père Noël was like Christmas! Well . . . it WAS Christmas.  
  
Javert yanked the red pants up under his trenchcoat. He could tell that they looked ridiculous, being that they were several (hundred) sizes too big.  
  
Gavroche giggled insanely. "The boots! The boots and the hat!"  
  
Furious, Javert jammed the boots onto his feet and the hat onto his head.  
  
"Now . . . take off the greatcoat so I can see."  
  
Javert, fuming, pulled off his coat and stood in a white undershirt, red pants, boots, and a red hat. The jacket was still in his hand. "I suppose I have to put this on too."  
  
"Yup," said Gavroche smugly.  
  
Javert yanked the jacket on. He stepped into the sleigh.  
  
"Now, LET'S GO!"  
  
Javert fell into the seat as the reindeer took off into the night sky.  
  
A/N - If you want your name in this story, or your username or something, QUICK REVIEW AND TELL ME! I might even give you a barricade boy, for lack of anything better to do. So, review, and you get a quick appearance w/ male character from 1832 of your choice, obviously except Javert, Gavroche, or Valjean. 


	3. Javert Makes Friends

A/N - The first two to review won the spot. Yay! Here they come.  
  
Disclaimer - Ain't mine.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
It stopped.  
  
Javert was stunned. What was that? What to do now?  
  
He was in a sleigh much like the one belonging to Père Noël, dressed as Père Noël, on a stranger's roof. Moreover, it was a stranger's chimney- less roof.  
  
Gavroche was giggling madly.  
  
"Now what do you expect me to do, go down the stove pipe? This is mad."  
  
"Well," Gavroche mused, "there must be a list somewhere."  
  
"A list?"  
  
"You know, of all the presents."  
  
Gavroche turned around to the backseat of the sleigh. "There's the bag," he said, pointing.  
  
"What? This bag is supposed to have a list of all the good little boys and girls and what they want for Christmas?" Javert grabbed one of the drawstrings.  
  
Suddenly the bag inflated and began to float up and out of the sleigh, carrying Javert with it. "Oh mon Dieu! Put me down, put me down!" the inspector (first class) screamed.  
  
Gavroche was dancing about the roof, clapping his hands with delight at the show before him.  
  
The floating sack positioned Javert over the stove pipe.  
  
"I was just kidding!" Javert shouted at it. "There is no way I can fit in there! Do you see the size of that hole? PUT ME DOWN!"  
  
The sack began to lower him into the funnel. There was a sucking sound, a strange sensation, and Javert was falling out of the grate of the stove. The bag landed on his head, and Javert cursed loudly. There was now something in the bag.  
  
Curious, Javert reached into the sack and pulled out a wooden crate. He slowly pried it open and looked inside. It held several bottles of medicine.  
  
"Medicine? Who would want medicine for Christmas?" Javert shouted, forgetting where he was.  
  
There was a thud from the next room, and a door opened, revealing a handsome young man and a girl with brown hair and eyes.  
  
Javert shoved the medicine under the tree, grabbed the bag, and ran back to the impossibly small stove grate. In a second he was on the roof.  
  
"Joly, who is it?" the girl asked.  
  
Joly blinked. "Oh no! I'm sick! I'm having hallucinations! Danielle, do you happen to have a mirror?"  
  
Danielle disappeared for a moment, then returned with a looking glass. "What did you see?"  
  
Joly, busy scrutinizing his tongue in the mirror, didn't answer.  
  
Danielle sighed. "I don't see how looking at your tongue helps you."  
  
"I must be sick!" Joly cried. He wandered into another room, muttering something about germs.  
  
Back on the roof, Javert was hovering above the stove pipe. The flying sack slowly returned him to the sleigh.  
  
"How'd it feel to be Père Noël, monsieur?"  
  
"Get me out of here!" Javert called to the reindeer, ignoring Gavroche.  
  
The reindeer complied quickly, whisking the sleigh off that roof . . .  
  
And onto the next one.  
  
Javert blinked. "This is going to be a long night."  
  
Again the sack lifted him into the air. This house had a chimney to receive Javert.  
  
He reached into the bag. This time it yielded an expensive looking pen and parchment.  
  
"Why do people want such stupid things for Christmas?" Javert asked himself . . . or the sack. He wasn't quite sure.  
  
What he had taken for a pile of blankets on the chair in the middle of the room suddenly sat up. It was girl.  
  
Javert groaned. "Why must I wake every resident of every house?"  
  
The girl on the couch blinked. "Père Noël?"  
  
"Javert. Inspector, first class."  
  
"Why don't you have a beard?"  
  
"Because it would take away from the glory of my sideburns. Go to sleep, mademoiselle."  
  
"Why are your clothes so baggy?"  
  
"Because 'Père Noël' is watching what he eats. Now, do you want these or not?" He held up the pens and parchment.  
  
"Those aren't for me. They're for Jehan . . ." she smiled dreamily.  
  
"I'm going to be sick," Javert said loudly.  
  
"Ssh! You'll wake him up!"  
  
"Mademoiselle, I am not afraid of your Jehan. Now GO TO SLEEP!"  
  
The young lady leaned back onto the chair and closed her eyes.  
  
"Good." Javert sighed.  
  
He began to leave.  
  
"Père Noël!"  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"You're supposed to drink the milk."  
  
"What?"  
  
"The milk. You were supposed to drink the milk."  
  
Javert growled. "I hate milk. Give me a good cup of tea any day. Milk is for children."  
  
He stomped to the chimney.  
  
"Oy!" he shouted at the sack.  
  
It lifted him up the chimney again.  
  
The sun was rising. Javert, having convinced himself it was all a dream, was considerably more cheerful.  
  
"We're done, Gavroche! The whole thing is over!"  
  
The sleigh shot through the clouds. "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!" Javert called. "When I wake up, I'm going to my doctor!"  
  
"Alright, Comet, Cupid, Dasher, Blitzen, Prancer, Dancer, Vixen, Donner - take me home!"  
  
A moment later the sleigh stopped.  
  
Javert looked around. "Where the ---- are we?"  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
La de da. Review. Tell me what you think - on pain of . . . the flu.  
  
If I used your name/self, tell me how I did. If you feel poorly represented, I'll try to change it.  
  
To Kitty - you will come into the story again, in case you aren't familiar with The Santa Clause. I shall have your name in here too. Tell me if you don't want to be called "Kitty."  
  
La Pamplemousse - Thank you for reviewing! I love your stories. Again, if you feel badly portrayed, tell me, and I shall attempt to change it.  
  
Thank you both for reviewing! It makes me feel so very loved.  
  
Everyone else - review I say! *growls evilly* 


	4. Enter Bernard! Yay!

A/N - Hi everyone, and welcome back to The Javvie Clause. When you were last with us, Javert was shouting profanities because the reindeer had taken him . . . where? Read on!  
  
Disclaimer - None of this is mine but me. MUAHAHA! I bet that got you curious.  
  
Fine, maybe not.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
"Is this okay, monsieur?" Gavroche asked quietly.  
  
"No, it's not okay!" Javert shouted. "Hey, does this look like home to you?" he called to the reindeer.  
  
Comet and Prancer looked at each other, then ran. The rest of the reindeer followed, jerking the reins from Javert's hands.  
  
"Great."  
  
Gavroche clutched the collar of his shirt and stared at his surroundings apprehensively.  
  
They were in the middle of a snowstorm. As far as they could see in every direction was snow, snow banks, and glaciers.  
  
Music suddenly filled the air.  
  
"In the silence of the night/When the snow is soft and still/You can see the magic light/And hear the ring of Christmas bells . . ."  
  
"What?" Javert shouted. The two looked around nervously.  
  
A boy appeared before them and walked to a snowdrift.  
  
"Through the night, ring out the chimes . . . "  
  
The boy turned sideways. Both inspector and gamin gasped at the sight of the boy's ear.  
  
It was pointed.  
  
The boy touched the top of a snowdrift. A red- and white-striped pole rose from the snow.  
  
"What's that?" Javert whispered.  
  
"I think it's the North Pole," replied Gavroche.  
  
"THAT'S the North Pole?"  
  
"Stars that dot the sky above/Long to hear that precious key . . ."  
  
A keypad popped out of the side of the pole. The boy pressed several numbers and the pole lowered into the snow again.  
  
"So close your eyes and come with me . . . "  
  
The snow directly around the sleigh began to crack and sink downwards.  
  
"Christmas bells will bring you home . . ."  
  
The sleigh slowly rode the disc of snow and ice underground - right into the middle of what appeared to be a busy factory.  
  
Strangely dressed children with pointed ears were carrying armloads of carrots, firewood, celery, and other such things to stalls holding the eight reindeer. The song echoed from every corner of the room.  
  
"Now this song we give the light/For magic dances in the night/Wish us now and always here/To show the constant Christmas cheer. Hear our voices in the air . . ."  
  
Javert's eyes widened. This was the most vivid dream he had ever experienced.  
  
"The love that comes from Christmas day/The love that comes with Christmas day/For Christmas bells will bring you home!"  
  
The song was ending. Javert climbed out of the sleigh and turned to Gavroche. "Stay here."  
  
He caught up with a cute little boy in green with a purple hat. "Child! Child, who is in charge here?"  
  
The boy smirked. "You are. And I'm not a child. I have pointed shoes that are older than you. I'm an elf."  
  
Javert blinked. Was he insulting an officer of the law? Ready to reprimand the . . . elf, Javert opened his mouth, but the boy had already walked away.  
  
Javert caught up with a little girl wearing a very similar outfit, except that her hat was green. "Who gives the orders around here? Who . . . who is your head elf?"  
  
The girl sighed. "You are."  
  
"No-" Javert began, but he was interrupted.  
  
"Hey, who's causing all the trouble around here?"  
  
A very hotsexy elf had asked the question. Relieved at seeing someone more than half his height, Javert turned to the newcomer.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Bernard. Nice to meet you, Santa."  
  
"What? Who is Santa?"  
  
"Santa Claus? Père Noël?"  
  
"Right. Wait, wrong. I'm not Santa! Look, I've had a rough night-" Javert realized that the hotsexy elf was walking away.  
  
"Listen here, young man. You do not walk away from an officer of the law when he is speaking to you."  
  
Bernard turned around. "What?"  
  
"Thank you. Listen, there has been some kind of mistake. I am not Père Noël! Or Santa Claus, or whatever you call him. I am Javert, inspector, first class, and I want to go back to my station NOW."  
  
Bernard sighed. "The other Santa disappeared, right?"  
  
He turned and walked off.  
  
"Wait," Javert followed him, "it was not my fault! It was an accident! I am an officer of the law, and . . . wait a minute." He grabbed Bernard's shoulder, forcing the hotsexy elf to turn and face him. "How did you know the other guy was gone?"  
  
"Can I get you a drink?"  
  
Javert, disgusted, said, "No, I don't want a drink."  
  
"I'm thirsty. And hungry, too," came Gavroche's voice from behind them.  
  
"Who's this?" asked Bernard, motioning toward Gavroche.  
  
"This is my charge, Gavroche. Gavroche, this is B . . . B . . ."  
  
"Ber-nard. Heya, sport."  
  
Gavroche stared.  
  
"He doesn't call you 'sport,' does he?" Bernard asked Gavroche.  
  
"Um . . . no. He calls me 'gamin.'"  
  
"Oh. So he isn't your dad?"  
  
"Ew, no! He's my jailer!"  
  
"Well," sighed Bernard, "that changes things."  
  
The same cute-little-boy elf with the purple hat walked by.  
  
"Hey Larry, get Gavroche here some chow, will ya?" Bernard called.  
  
Larry nodded, and Gavroche scampered off behind him.  
  
"No, Larry, don't do that. Gavroche! Gavroche, come back here!" Javert shouted.  
  
"He'll be okay. Follow me if you wanna get out of those clothes."  
  
"I don't want . . . wait a minute Barnaby, I just want to go home!" Javert ran after Bernard, who was already halfway down the hall. 


	5. Seeing Isn't Believing

A/N- Thank you my wonderful reviewers! Those of you who asked for a barricade boy after the first two, sorry you missed it. I still love you, though.  
  
Jules14 - sorry, what? I /know/ I'm a loony. That much I tell you with my screen name and my username. But watch out pal . . . I've been madly insanely in love with Bernard for a year now . . . beware my obsessiveness!  
  
La Pamplemousse- Thank you, as always, for reviewing! Sorry you didn't get to be insane, obsessive, or hypochondriacical. (Now /that/ is making up a word). I, too, am obsessive (quite obviously) unless someone wakes me up in the middle of the night insisting that they are having hallucinations. At that point I might be rather quiet, kind of like you were in the fic. Thus, your non-insanity.  
  
CosetteLover - What on EARTH makes you think I won't finish a fic that's got both my obsessions in it? You know me better than that, hon.  
  
Sweet775 - We shall see. I've thought of a place for you, but I'm not so sure if it will work.  
  
Anyway . . . on with the fic! And Bernard!  
  
Disclaimer - I own . . . none. Till later.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Javert caught up with the elf in just as he was turning a corner. "Look, I am NOT Santa Claus! I-" Javert began.  
  
They had entered a huge room full of working elves. Javert could not help but gasp.  
  
"You put on the suit, right?" the elf asked.  
  
Javert nodded, dumbfounded at the enormity of the room.  
  
"Didja read the card?" Javert nodded again.  
  
Bernard continued, obviously unaware of how incredible it was to render Javert speechless.  
  
"So, in putting on the hat and jacket you accepted the contract." He handed Javert a large cookie. "Here."  
  
"What contract?" Javert asked angrily, taking the cookie.  
  
"The card in the Santa suit, you said you read it, right?"  
  
Another nod.  
  
"So when you put on the suit you fell subject to the Santa Clause."  
  
Bernard turned away.  
  
"Wait a minute! You mean Santa Claus, the person?"  
  
"No," Bernard sighed, "I mean Santa Clause, the clause."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Look, you're a business man, right?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Um . . . do you ever have paperwork?"  
  
"Oh, of course."  
  
"A clause," Bernard said slowly, "as in the last line of a contract."  
  
Javert stared blankly.  
  
"Do you have the card?"  
  
Javert located the card in his large, red pants pocket and handed it to Bernard, who held it under a conveniently placed magnifying glass.  
  
Suddenly Javert saw that the annoying red border was actually made up of tiny red words. Bernard began to recite them, and Javert read along.  
  
"In putting on the suit and entering the sleigh the wearer waives any and all rights to any previous identity, real or implied, and fully accepts the duties and responsibilities of Santa Claus, in perpetuity, until such time that wearer becomes unable to do so by either accident or design."  
  
Javert blinked. "Well, what does that mean?"  
  
"It means you put on the suit, you're the big guy!"  
  
Ignoring the elf's obvious annoyance, Javert protested. "That's ridiculous, I-"  
  
Bernard whirled around. "TRY to understand this, okay?" he shouted.  
  
All of the elves in the room heard. "Oooooooh!"  
  
Javert glared at them.  
  
Bernard grabbed Javert's shoulder and began to walk with him. "Somebody has to deliver the toys. I'm not going to do it. It's not my job. I'm just an elf who's going to marry a crazy teenager in North Carolina. I . . ." he blinked. "What did I just say?"  
  
There was a crash of thunder and a voice echoed throughout the room. "I AM ERIN, THE CRAZY NORTH CAROLINIAN TEACHER! HA! I CONTROL YOU! I AM THE AUTHOR!"  
  
Bernard blinked.  
  
"CONTINUE!"  
  
"Um . . . I'm not going to do it, I'm justanelf." He paused.  
  
No thunder. No voice.  
  
"Okay! That's Santa's job, but Santa fell off the roof. Your roof. You read the card, you put on the suit, that clearly falls under the Santa Clause, so now you're Santa, okay?"  
  
"Listen, I just want to go back to Paris."  
  
Gavroche came running up. "M'sieur, you've got to see this place!"  
  
"You have a year to get your affairs in order, then you're due back here Thanksgiving," Bernard continued.  
  
"Due back here what?"  
  
"Um . . . in November."  
  
"I don't want to come back here in November!"  
  
"I'll ship the list to your house," Bernard said stiffly.  
  
"What list?"  
  
"You know . . . the list . . ."  
  
Javert raised his eyebrows.  
  
Bernard, obviously embarrassed or apprehensive, leaned in and sang quietly, "He's making a list . . . "  
  
"Checking it twice!" Gavroche sang loudly.  
  
"GONNA FIND OUT WHO'S NAUGHTY OR NICE!" The line echoed around the factory as every elf joined in.  
  
Bernard groaned. "You put a 'P' next to the kids who are nice and a 'C' next to the naughty ones."  
  
"'P' and 'C'?"  
  
"Yeah," chimed Gavroche. "'P' for presents and 'C' for coal, right Bernard?"  
  
"Right!" Bernard said. Again he turned to leave.  
  
"What if I don't want to do this?"  
  
Bernard whirled around, his eyes wide. "Don't even kid about a thing like that!"  
  
"Why not? What if I don't want to become Santa? What if I choose not to believe it?"  
  
Javert hadn't even realized that his voice had been rising. The last question came out almost as a shout. Suddenly all of the sounds of laughter and toy-making from the elves stopped.  
  
Javert looked around nervously. They were all watching him, eyes as wide as Bernard's. He smiled uncomfortably.  
  
"Then," began Bernard, "there would be millions of disappointed kids around the world." He paused, as if waiting for this to sink in. "You see, children hold the spirit of Christmas within their hearts. You wouldn't want to be responsible for killing the spirit of Christmas, now would you? Santa?"  
  
The noises of the factory resumed. Without even giving him a chance to respond, Bernard turned for the last time to leave. He made his way down a flight of stairs, saying, "Judy will take you to your room, get out of the suit; it needs to be cleaned."  
  
Javert pulled at the waist of the pants he wore, watching them extend far enough for the entire Patron-Minette to fit inside with him. "And taken in!" he called to Bernard.  
  
"Then," Bernard continued, "get some sleep. We've got a lot of work to do and only a year in which to do it."  
  
And then Bernard was gone, swallowed by the crowd of busy elves.  
  
A thin whistle sounded to Javert's right, and he turned in time to see what was either the smallest train or the largest toy he had ever beheld in his life. A pretty young elf with long dark hair and a pointed hat rode perched atop one of the cars.  
  
"Judy?" Javert asked.  
  
"Santa?" she replied.  
  
"Javert, inspector, first class."  
  
She smiled submissively. "Follow me."  
  
Gavroche had climbed onto another car. The little train whistled again and began to move.  
  
"I think I'll just catch the next train," Javert muttered.  
  
"Come on, m'sieur!" Gavroche cried.  
  
"Gavroche!" Javert yelled, as if noticing the boy for the first time.  
  
He walked after the train, which stopped in front of a large set of doors. An elf wearing a red robe pulled open a smaller door set into the larger one for Judy and Gavroche to enter. Javert, not really paying attention, attempted to follow before the door-elf could open the larger Santa-sized door, resulting in a painful knock to the head.  
  
When all three were safely inside the room, Javert took a moment to survey his surroundings.  
  
A tiny toy train ran in a wide circle across the floor and beneath a bed shaped rather like a sleigh. In the corner, two puppets performed, shouting to each other in annoying voices.  
  
Gavroche leapt onto the bed and began to make himself comfortable.  
  
Judy smiled at Javert. "Here are your pajamas." She handed him something red and silky. "Would you like something? The kitchen's always open."  
  
Javert massaged his forehead. "How about a stiff drink?"  
  
Judy laughed. "I'll get you some hot cocoa."  
  
She left. Javert held up the pajamas he had handed her. They were long pants and a shirt with embroidery on the breast pocket. Javert changed clothes, listening to the annoying puppets.  
  
A moment later Judy returned with a silver tray and a mug of hot chocolate. "Santa?"  
  
"Inspector Javert!" he corrected her.  
  
Ignoring him, Judy offered him the drink.  
  
"No thanks," Javert replied.  
  
"It's my own secret recipe. Took me twelve hundred years to get it right."  
  
"Twelve hundred years?" Javert asked dubiously.  
  
"That's right."  
  
Curious, Javert tried some of the cocoa. It was wonderful, but he wasn't about to admit it. He simply nodded and drank the rest. Luckily, Judy understood.  
  
Javert walked slowly over to a window overlooking the rest of the North Pole.  
  
"You seem distressed," Judy observed.  
  
"I am beyond distressed! I mean, I never believed in Père Noël!"  
  
Judy sighed. "Most adults can't believe in Santa. They just sort of . . . grow out of it."  
  
"Listen," Javert said, a sneer creeping into his voice, "you're a nice little elf."  
  
"Thanks," Judy said seriously.  
  
"But this is a dream! Look, is that a polar bear down there?" Judy nodded. "I see it," Javert explained, "but I don't believe it."  
  
Judy smiled and shook her head. "You're missing the point. Seeing isn't believing. Believing is seeing. Children don't have to see this place to know it's here. They just . . . know."  
  
Javert glanced at the bed, where little Gavroche had fallen asleep fully clothed.  
  
"Good night, Santa," Judy said on her way out.  
  
Since the gamin had taken the bed, Javert walked over to a large desk, sat in the chair, and propped his feet up on the desktop.  
  
He looked around the workshop, shook his head, and finally fell asleep. 


	6. Red Silk Jammies

A/N - Of course, I must thank my lovely (and I mean that in the least Les Mizziest way possible) reviewers.  
  
Mlle. Verity le Virago - Most of that chapter was just quoting the movie. But I see what you mean. The first time I understood what Judy was saying there I had to pause the movie and think about it for a few seconds . . . yeah, I can be slow sometimes.  
  
Neila Nuruodo-Javert - Glad you are amused. I am too. Here's some more for ya.  
  
Elendil Star-Lover - Thanks for reading (and ESPECIALLY reviewing) my fic. One word reviews work for me . . . unless that one word is something derogatory. Thanks again for reviewing!  
  
La Pamplemousse - Eep! Elf was FUNNY! Enjoy your lemon squares! Oh wow! I've been inspired to incorporate lemon squares into my story now! Hee hee hee. I'm going to do that. It should turn up in a few chapters.  
  
Elyse3 - Thanks for your review! I have thought of a place where I can shove in all the people who are still asking to be in here, but it's a ways off yet.  
  
Jehan's Muse - One Jehan, coming up (later on . . . )  
  
deja-vu/Thalia - Is this a good thing?  
  
Disclaimer - *Sighs* T'ain't mine. Pas un peu. (I think that's right.) Well, no, Bertrand's mine.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Javert awoke to Gavroche's ecstatic shouts. "M'sieur! M'sieur, come see the presents! It's Christmas! Come look!"  
  
Javert groaned. "Gamin, I am trying to get some rest. Just - Mon Dieu, it's cold!"  
  
Javert heaved himself up from the chair and studied the broken window. The wind was whipping through the station, bringing snow with it. Early risers were already wandering about the street in their Christmas finery, calling greetings to one another or singing at the top of their lungs.  
  
Javert rolled his eyes. "What a ridiculous dream," he muttered.  
  
Gavroche was gleefully unwrapping presents by the stove.  
  
Wait a minute. Presents? Javert had not bought the gamin presents.  
  
The inspector turned to Gavroche. "Where did you-"  
  
He was interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open.  
  
A very handsome young man sauntered into the police station. Javert took in the tattered coat, partially smashed top hat, and long, unkempt hair before asking him to state his business at the station.  
  
The young man, completely ignoring Javert, shouted, "Gavroche, you here?"  
  
Gavroche hopped up from behind the stove, an unwrapped present in his arms. "Parnasse!" he shouted. To Javert he said, "Told you the Patron-Minette would come for me. Thanks for a great night at the North Pole!"  
  
The young man decided to take notice of Javert. "The what?" he asked.  
  
"It was . . . a dream. I dreamed that I went to the North Pole . . . and I must have told Ga- the gamin about it . . . or something like that . . ."  
  
Gavroche, holding all three or four of his presents, scampered over to the two. "Parnasse, this is Inspector Javert. M'sieur, this is Montparnasse."  
  
Javert blinked. He had not been paying attention. Montparnasse from the Patron-Minette, the most notorious and dangerous gang in Paris, was standing casually in front of him. And he was doing nothing about it.  
  
The inspector, first class, slowly reached toward the handcuffs in the inner pocket of his greatcoat. His fingers met silk.  
  
Silk?  
  
Where was his greatcoat?  
  
Javert slowly looked down at himself.  
  
He was clad in the red pajamas Judy had given him.  
  
"WHAT IS THIS?" he shouted.  
  
Montparnasse snorted, grabbed a few of Gavroche's presents, and promenaded out the door of the police station. Gavroche followed.  
  
"Bye, M'sieur! In November, when you go back to the North Pole, can you tell Bernard and Larry and Judy I said hi?"  
  
The inspector blinked at him. "Listen, gamin! I am not going to the North Pole! I am not Père Noël!"  
  
Someone behind Javert snorted much in the way Montparnasse had. Javert whirled around.  
  
It was one of his colleagues, another policeman.  
  
"That, my good inspector, is quite obvious," the man said coolly.  
  
Javert's eyes widened. "Sorry, Bertrand. That crazy gamin thinks that I'm Père Noël."  
  
Looking pointedly at Javert's red silk pajamas, Bertrand said evenly, "I wonder what on earth gave him that impression."  
  
"I . . . I usually don't wear pajamas." Javert said, his voice rising in anger. "I usually sleep in my greatcoat!"  
  
Bertrand turned and went into the station.  
  
Javert looked again at the pajamas. "The Santa Clause?" he whispered to himself.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Yes, it was short, but my mom thinks I'm doing my biology homework right now and I don't want her to get wise. Heh heh . . . "get wise" . . .  
  
REVIEW I SAY! 


	7. An Elephant and a Changed Man

A/N - Prepare to see some scary changes in Javert's attitude towards Gavroche.  
  
Elendil Star-Lover - Serious fics? I think I wrote one once. I never posted it, though. I will someday . . .  
  
Mlle. Verity le Virago - Enjolras . . . *musing* hmm . . .  
  
La Pamplemousse - Greatcoats!! I slept in mine once. At a friend's house. Because she wouldn't give me a blanket.  
  
Cecilia Carlton - Thank you for the applause! *bows* The voices in my head made me do it.  
  
Neila Nuruodo-Javert - He gets on top of things soon enough.  
  
sweet775 - I have been attacked by my own Javert many a time (he hasn't seen this yet, thank the lucky stars). He likes to tie me up while I'm on IM and annoy my friends. I finally had to get mes amis their own sn, which is LesAmisdelABH, if you'd like to be seriously freaked out.  
  
Judge of the Techies - Don't worry, it took me forever to decide to read the book, too. But now I've read it three times. AUGH IT'S SO GOOD! You MUST read it to get a better understanding of Parnasse.  
  
Disclaimer- Well, Les Mis isn't mine. If it was, I'd be Victor Hugo. And if I was Victor Hugo, I'd be dead. And if I was dead, I couldn't be writing fics. And if I couldn't be writing fics, none of you would have images of Javert in red silk pj's.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Javert strolled slowly down the deserted street. It was a warm day in early April.  
  
He passed a crumbling statue of an elephant. "I must remember to post a removal notice on that thing," he muttered to himself.  
  
No sooner had the words left his lips when he heard a familiar voice saying, "Oh, look! You've gotta see this!"  
  
Javert sighed. What was that boy up to now?  
  
A moment or two later he felt Gavroche holding on to the back of his greatcoat. "Oy, m'sieur, stop. Stop!"  
  
Javert did so. He turned to see Gavroche standing with two other boys. "Well, what?" he asked, trying to sound much more annoyed than he was.  
  
Gavroche smiled at him, then looked to the boys. "You know what you were telling me? Well, I've got one better. This is Inspector Javert. And he has a great job."  
  
"Yes, gamin. My job is keeping little rats like you off the-"  
  
"No, m'sieur, not that." Gavroche turned back to the other boys. "Inspector Javert . . . is Père Noël!"  
  
The little boys giggled.  
  
"No, really! He is! Because on the day before Christmas I was staying with him in the jail and he pushed the real Père Noël off the roof. And we got in the sleigh and delivered presents to people and then we went to the North Pole and Bernard the head elf said he was the new Père Noël! And wait here a second. I want to show you something."  
  
Gavroche ran over to the immense elephant statue, shimmied up his leg, disappeared for a moment, and then returned with something in his hand.  
  
"I lifted this at the North Pole! It was in the room with the puppets and the sleigh bed. Look at this!"  
  
It was a snow globe. Gavroche flipped it upside-down and showed the littler boys.  
  
"Gavroche," Javert sighed, "that never happened. It was a dream!"  
  
One of the little boys looked up at Javert. "So if I want to be Santa, all I have to do is push you off a roof?"  
  
"Now listen, gamins, I-"  
  
"Gavroche, who are your little friends?"  
  
Montparnasse had appeared out of nowhere.  
  
"These are my boys, Parnasse. I found them."  
  
"And you still think this Inspector is Père Noël? I thought I told you there was no Père Noël."  
  
"You did, Parnasse, but I was there. I saw it!"  
  
"Alright, Gavroche. Take your boys on up to your house. I want to talk to Père Noël," Montparnasse said quietly.  
  
Gavroche helped the little boys climb into the giant elephant statue.  
  
Montparnasse turned to Javert. "What did you and Gavroche really do on Christmas Eve?"  
  
Javert rolled his eyes. "Talked with some lovely ladies, swam in the Seine, crawled through the sewers . . ."  
  
Montparnasse took this very seriously.  
  
"Mon Dieu! I recited him a poem!"  
  
"What poem?"  
  
Javert turned bright red. "'Twas the Night Before Christmas."  
  
"I've never heard of that," Montparnasse said quietly, "but I am worried about Gavroche. All he talks about is the North Pole, the head elf Bertrand-"  
  
"Ber-nard."  
  
"Whatever. And you. It's not right for a gamin to constantly go on about how great a policeman is." Montparnasse turned and stalked away.  
  
It suddenly occurred to Javert that that was the second time he had had a full conversation with a murderer and had not arrested him. Was he going soft? It happened all, but he had sworn that he, Javert, would never put anything before an arrest.  
  
Especially not the welfare of a gamin.  
  
He turned to continue his patrol, but he noticed something attached to the elephant statue. On closer examination, Javert found that it was a removal notice that another of the police had put here. It demanded that this elephant be torn down.  
  
Javert looked up at the elephant's vast underside. A small plank between its forelegs covered what must have been Gavroche's front door.  
  
Javert pulled the notice off the statue, folded it up, and tossed it into a sewer grate. 


	8. Hugo Would Never Have Done This

A/N- It's almost Christmas!!!!!! Huzzah! If you reviewed, I LOVE YOU! THANK YOU SO VERY VERY MUCH!  
  
Oh, and my good friend Emma pointed out that in an earlier chapter I said "I am Erin, crazy North Carolinian teacher" which should read "I am Erin, crazy North Carolinian /teenager/" I'm too lazy to fix it.  
  
La Pamplemousse - Again I thank you for reviewing. Heads up for lemon squares in this chapter.  
  
AmZ - Um . . . okay. *smiles blankly*  
  
s n o g g i n g withdrawal - This story is gonna be so long I'm never gonna be able to start the other fics I wanna do! AUUUUGH! Oh well.  
  
The Phantom Parisienne - I am very honored. *bows to the floor* Thank you.  
  
Elendil Star-Lover - I'm glad that I am found humorous, although this chapter I find rather depressing.  
  
Elyse3 - You have /no/ idea how hard it is to give Javert a heart. He's so . . . Javert.  
  
Disclaimer - I don't own Les Mis. Or Javert or Gavroche or Parnasse. Well, I do own /a/ Javert, Gavroche, and Parnasse, but they aren't the ones in this fic. (It's the ones in my attic.)  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
A week or so later, Javert awoke to find he had fallen asleep at his desk again. Luckily, Bertrand had not yet arrived to take over his shift.  
  
Javert heaved himself up out of his chair and shuffled over to the small mirror. He caught a glimpse of his reflection, began to turn away, and suddenly stopped dead.  
  
Inspector Javert slowly turned around to face the mirror again.  
  
He was huge.  
  
Javert shouted and began to back away from the mirror, but only succeeded in tripping over a chair and falling backwards onto the floor. The windows rattled.  
  
He scrambled to his feet and looked in the mirror again.  
  
Javert had a double chin and his greatcoat looked rather strained. He shook his head, nervously watching his chins wobble. "Something's wrong with the mirror!"  
  
He wrote a scribbled note giving an excuse for his absence to Inspector Bertrand and scrambled out into the street.  
  
When Javert arrived home, he slammed the front door and locked it.  
  
"Look at me!" he shouted.  
  
A button popped off of his greatcoat.  
  
Javert quickly unbuttoned the coat and threw it into a corner. He had to find something to wear that he could still fit into. He rushed up the staircase and into his bedroom, and he yanked open the closet door.  
  
Everything was in his usual size, of course. Javert began rooting through the clothes and finally found an old, out of date police uniform he had worn when he was first stationed in Toulon. Being a jailer had inspired him to be a little more fit in order to be more intimidating, and before long the uniform had been far too large.  
  
Javert pulled it on, carefully ignoring the holes in the armpits and knees.  
  
It was a perfect fit. He was turning side to side, trying to make himself look thinner by sucking in his massive gut, when someone knocked on the door.  
  
Javert rushed downstairs and pulled it open. A ragged little girl stood before him with a letter in her hand. Javert took the letter, reached absentmindedly for his purse, and handed the gamine a coin. He did not notice her squeal of joy as she held the gold Napoleon up to the sunlight and, having verified that it was real, scampered off to the market.  
  
Javert pulled open the letter. It was a reminder for the meeting to happen at the station later that day. He moaned.  
  
(Pause for breath)  
  
An hour or so later, Bertrand stood before a room of police, checking to see who was absent. Inspector Javert suddenly threw open the door and took a seat near the back of the room, ten minutes late.  
  
Everyone was choking back hysterical laughter. Javert looked as if he weighed twice as much as he had only the week before and apparently all he could find to wear was an outdated uniform covered in holes.  
  
Javert did not seem to notice the muffled giggling. "Inspector Javert, what happened to you?" Bertrand asked incredulously.  
  
"Um . . . a bee sting. Yes, it turns out I swell like this whenever I get stung by a bee. But my doctor says the swelling will go down."  
  
"Alright, Inspector, we were just telling Etienne what we wanted for lunch," Bertrand explained.  
  
Javert opened his mouth to order, but Bertrand spoke before he could. "A small salad, if you please."  
  
Etienne nodded. "That's salads for everyone, three large ones and six small ones. Monsieur Inspector?"  
  
Javert smiled. "Alright, I'm ready. Ice cream, if they have it, and maybe some lemon squares. Yes, lots of lemon squares. About six. Lemon squares are really yummy. And a nice, tall glass of cold milk."  
  
Silence filled the station. Everyone stared at Javert. "A bee sting, Inspector?"  
  
Javert nodded.  
  
No one believed him.  
  
"It was a big bee," Javert said quickly.  
  
Bertrand stepped out into the street. "Inspector Javert, follow me."  
  
Javert complied, and when the door was firmly closed, Bertrand turned on him. "What was that?"  
  
Javert raised his eyebrows innocently. "Lunch?"  
  
"That, Inspector, was the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard from you. You're slipping, Javert. Look at you! This old uniform covered in holes, you're about as thin as that red-haired woman we keep jailing, you know who I mean-"  
  
"Isn't her name Thénardier?"  
  
"Thénardier, Jondrette - no one really knows. But this is not the point, Javert. You need help. A doctor, I don't know. Just get help."  
  
Bertrand turned to go back into the station, but stopped. "And when was the last time you trimmed that beard? I can't even see the sideburns you used to be so proud of. Javert, I don't want to see you at this station until you've cleaned yourself up."  
  
Bertrand slammed the door in Javert's face.  
  
Javert stared at the closed door for a second, the began to slowly back up. His foot caught on a cobblestone, and he fell into a sitting position on the street. "He just let me go," Javert whispered to himself.  
  
"Really?" came a voice from right next to his head.  
  
"Wha-" Javert leapt to his feet. Gavroche stood next to him.  
  
Gavroche did not seem to notice that he had nearly caused Javert's early death. "You mean you aren't an Inspector now?"  
  
Javert blinked slowly, and his mouth dropped open. "I'm . . . not an Inspector . . . anymore."  
  
Gavroche nodded. "D'you think maybe now Parnasse will leave you alone?"  
  
Javert's facial expression reminded Gavroche of the look on his own father's face when he first found out that Javert had been moved to Paris.  
  
"I . . . I need to be alone," Javert muttered, then took off down the street.  
  
Gavroche waited until he was a good distance away, then began to follow. 


	9. Nor This, I'm Afraid

A/N - Aww. Poor Javvie. I write this chapter wearing my way-too-large overcoat and listening to LM. If you see a typo, these friggin' sleeves are so long . . . and that's why.  
  
Elyse3 - Gavroche shall reappear until he begins to be annoying. Although he's rather cool in this chapter.  
  
La Pamplemousse - If you think that's frightening, this chapter's even worse. In a good way.  
  
Wierd Kitty - Again, what shall I call you when you reappear? For indeed, the chap-ette on the couch several chapters ago was to be you.  
  
The Phantom Parisienne - I quite enjoyed the button myself. It makes a comeback in this chapter for about a sentence.  
  
I AM JEBUS - ??? Could this be my first flame? Although I'm rather confused . . . La Pamplemousse, I'll donate it to your quest to burn all copies of the Lizzie McGuire Movie, if it is a flame. Man, am I confused. Do you not understand fanfiction, my dear?  
  
Disclaimer - Why do I put one of these at the beginning of every chapter? I don't own Les Mis, but I /do/ own a nearly-life-size cardboard figure of Geoffrey Rush. Admittedly, he's Captain Barbossa in this particular poster, but . . . he /was/ Javert . . . once.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Gavroche knocked on Javert's front door several hours later. No one answered. The boy knew Javert was still inside, as he had seen him go in a few hours ago and hadn't seen him come out. He knocked again, harder.  
  
Still no answer.  
  
In frustration, Gavroche slammed his fist against the door with all his strength. To his surprise, it leapt open.  
  
Gavroche shrugged, stepped inside, and looked around.  
  
He was in a rather large entrance hall with a marble floor. There was a corridor leading in one direction and a long staircase in the other. The place was meticulously clean but for a button lying in the corner. Gavroche was not sure where to go next.  
  
A sound like shattering glass echoed from the end of the hallway, giving Gavroche a rather helpful hint.  
  
Gavroche found Javert in the pantry with half a bottle of rum on the table and the shards of several bottles on the floor. A small mirror was also broken. Javert's head was down on the table.  
  
"Monsieur!" Gavroche gasped.  
  
Javert looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "Eh?"  
  
"Monsieur! I'm surprised at you! Look at this?" Gavroche began. He stopped for a second, eyeing the half full bottle on the table. "Can I have some?"  
  
In answer, Javert raised the bottle to his lips and drained it of rum. Gavroche went over to the cabinets and flung them open. All were empty. "Look at this, monsieur!"  
  
Javert gasped. "Why's the rum gone?"  
  
"Because you drank it all, is why! Look at you! What would the children of the world think if they could see Père Noël like this?"  
  
Javert belched. "But why's the rum gone?"  
  
"Monsieur Javert!"  
  
"But how c'n I catch Val -hic- jean if I'm not 'n Inspector? Can't just walk up to'm an' say 'Oy, Valjean, y'r goin' t' jail.' Can't do that 'less y'r 'n Inspector . . . or a p'lice, anyway."  
  
A/N - Just when I finished that paragraph Javert's Arrival and Little People started up and I hope you know I've really yanked these chaps out of character. Anyway, it gave me an idea . . . but that's for later.  
  
"Monsieur, you know that you couldn't have stayed a policeman anyway."  
  
"Wha?"  
  
"Bernard said, 'the wearer waives any and all right to any previous identity, real or implied, and fully accepts the duties and responsibilities of Santa Claus.'"  
  
"'Choo know that?"  
  
"Larry, the elf who showed me the workshop, told me. He told me the clause."  
  
"'Choo 'member that?"  
  
"I don't know. I'm not stupid, monsieur."  
  
A/N - *&#$! Now it's playing Lily's Eyes (I know it's not LM, but it's Philip Quast in all of his beautiful glory, and I feel really bad for what I did and am doing to Javert.) Oh well.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Honestly. I still remember your poem."  
  
"My wha?" Javert asked.  
  
Gavroche sighed. "This is rather pathetic, monsieur."  
  
Javert blinked slowly.  
  
"Monsieur, look at the mess you made!" Gavroche scolded, indicating the glass-covered floor.  
  
"Broke th' mirror."  
  
"I know. How?"  
  
"Was broke already."  
  
"What do you mean, monsieur?" Gavroche asked patiently.  
  
"Wasn't a picture o' me 'n it. It was someb'dy else."  
  
Gavroche fought down a smile. "What did he look like?"  
  
"'S real fat and 's got a big dark beard 's got gray 'n white in it"  
  
"Monsieur," Gavroche said slowly."  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"That was you."  
  
Javert's red eyes widened. "No. No. I got sideburns. Dark sideburns. 'N I'm in shape. 'S how I catch th' ones who try to run, I c'n go fast."  
  
The fun of seeing ex-Inspector Javert drunk was wearing off, and Gavroche was just plain annoyed. He grabbed the empty bottle from Javert's hand. "I'm leaving, monsieur. You better sober up. I'll check on you in the morning. Go to bed now."  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"Goodbye, Monsieur Javert."  
  
Gavroche turned on his heel and stalked out. 


	10. Enter More Lemon Squares

A/N - I've already typed this chapter, but I didn't save it to the disk, so when my dad had Windows reloaded onto the computer (it was getting really slow) I lost the chappie. Even worse, my Spell-Check no longer recognizes words like 'Les Misérables' and Jean Valjean. It just now tried to turn Les Misérables into Lees Miserable and Valjean into Vallejo. What a world, what a world.  
  
Daroga's Rainy Daae - Thank you for reviewing, my friend. I just got the soundtrack to Pirates today, and now I'm all 'woot!'  
  
Weird Kitty - Yay! You shall be Kitty. And I shall call you Kitty . . . and I really suck at Finding Nemo spoofs. Dern.  
  
La Pamplemousse - Yes, Lizzie McGuire shall die. Secret Garden rocks my socks! And then Philip Quast comes in and finishes off the job by rocking them off . . . along with my shoes . . .  
  
The Phantom Parisienne - The button, the button . . . *loves the button* Can't you just see Javert saying 'A wedding? I love weddings! Drinks all around!' or 'Savvy?'  
  
Mlle. Verity le Virago - Good point . . . about Gavroche. Javert, on the other hand, as we all know, has chronic OOC-ness.  
  
Elyse3 - Did he melt into a pile of goo? Nah, he's not written anything. I LOVE THE CURSE OF THE MARIE-SUZETTE! Everybody, as soon as you finish reading this chapter, go read that!  
  
Neila Nuruodo-Javert - Sadly, I cannot claim that line. I cannot claim 'Why's the rum gone?' either. There are, actually many lines that I can claim . . . oh, fa, go read my Disclaimer. Thanks for your review(s).  
  
Disclaimer - I don't own Les Mis, my computer no longer knows the word 'Mis,' and I'm fighting off depression while reloading KaZaA (which had all my favorite songs from Les Mis, The Secret Garden [which had Philip Quast in it - MON DIEU! IT DOESN'T KNOW 'QUAST'!], and the theme songs from Boy Meets World and Full House). On the lighter side, I'm going to see LM again Sunday! Days more! Whoop!  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Gavroche (my computer suggests Gavotte) did not return the next morning, or the next. It was actually several months before Javert (Avert or Java) saw him again. Gavroche was caught attempting to steal a loaf of bread from a baker's front window by Inspector Bertrand and was thrown in jail. The Patron-Minette (Minute, Minato, Minot, Minutia, and Minted) didn't seem to realize that Gavroche wasn't able to bust himself out for the longest time. When they finally did rescue him, the first person Gavroche sought was the former Inspector Javert.  
  
Gavroche found Javert feeding pieces of lemon squares to pigeons and gamins in the park.  
  
When Javert saw the boy, his whole face lit up uncharacteristically.  
  
[To Elyse3 - Oh no! OOC-ness!]  
  
"Gavroche! I haven't seen you in the longest time!" he cried as a pigeon yanked a piece of lemon square out of his hand.  
  
"You can thank your friend Bertrand for that," Gavroche answered sourly.  
  
Javert's (Java's) face darkened momentarily. "You were in jail?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"What did you do?" Javert asked, as a gamin yanked a piece of lemon square out of his hand.  
  
"I stole a loaf of bread," Gavroche admitted.  
  
"You robbed a house?"  
  
"I broke a windowpane."  
  
Javert blinked. "Gavroche, do you ever have déjà vu?"  
  
"Occasionally. Why?"  
  
Javert shook his head. "Never mind."  
  
A blast of cold air suddenly swept threw the park. "Winter's on the way," Javert said. It was late September.  
  
Gavroche wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. He wore only a pair of very worn pants, a tattered shirt, an old brown cap, and a dirty shawl.  
  
Javert was genuinely concerned. "Don't you need a jacket or something, Gavroche?"  
  
Gavroche considered Javert's physical appearance. He was rather enormous, his hair was almost completely white, and he had a bushy beard. The former inspector had also apparently taken a liking to rather festive clothes. He wore a dark green shirt underneath a red vest worthy of a college student. The whole look was topped off by the flocks of pigeons and gamins swarming around, eating lemon squares.  
  
"Not to be rude, Monsieur Javert, but you don't look quite . . . normal . . . yourself."  
  
Javert ignored that remark with a wave of his hand, frightening away the pigeons and a few of the gamins.  
  
"Monsieur Javert! Aren't you due back at the North Pole in November?"  
  
Javert sighed. "Gavroche, we've been over this - I'm not Père Noël!"  
  
Suddenly a well-dressed little girl across the park started pointing at Javert and babbling to her mother. Before one could say 'jail for you' the girl had detached from her mother, dashed across the courtyard, and thrown herself onto Javert's lap.  
  
Javert and Gavroche stared, dumbfounded.  
  
The child leaned close to Javert and said sincerely, "I want a pony."  
  
/\/\/\  
  
A few minutes later, Montparnasse (no spelling suggestions) strolled into the garden. The sight that met his eyes horrified him.  
  
A man who could barely be recognized as the formidable inspector of only seven or eight months ago sat on a park bench, a long line of children before him. They were taking turns sitting in his lap and saying a few words, then hopping down and skipping away. Gavroche stood by, giggling madly at the scenario.  
  
'Parnasse (Prance, Parlance, Parse, Pareses, and Parkas) stormed into the middle of the crowd,  
  
"Gavroche, go to your elephant - Go!" he hissed when Gavroche began to protest.  
  
Gavroche shot a desperate look at Javert before hurrying away.  
  
"Wait- no, he can stay; I'll go-"  
  
"Monsieur Javert," Montparnasse said icily.  
  
Javert tried to conceal a shudder. He did not shudder when a criminal threatened him! "It's the funniest thing, isn't it? These kids just lined up by themselves, and I-"  
  
"It is not even remotely amusing."  
  
Javert closed his mouth.  
  
"Gavroche is a very young boy, and very impressionable. The Patron-Minette does not approve of filling a boy's head with things like Père Noël, rainbows, and unicorns. And lemon squares," Montparnasse added upon seeing the half-empty box on the bench next to Javert.  
  
[Hehehe Parnasse said lemon squares! Oh, La Pamplemousse, I was in a candy store thingamabob the other day and they were giving out FREE LEMON SQUARES! So I laughed insanely and yelled 'Lemon Squares!' and took about ten . . . but then I got a bellyache.]  
  
Javert tried to say something in his own defense, but Montparnasse interrupted. "If you come near that boy one more time, Javert, I'll tell the rest of the gang. You don't want us as an enemy, monsieur."  
  
"I- I don't know what you mean," Javert sputtered indignantly.  
  
Montparnasse glared at him. "Do not let me hear of you associating with that boy again," he said crisply, and stalked off. 


	11. The Threat

A/N- OH MY GAWWWD! Today's the day I get to see LM! *does a happy dance* Five hours more!  
  
The Phantom Parisienne – Hehehe. I'm afraid the button has to leave the story now... Javert wouldn't leave things lying on the floor for months at a time. Goodbye, dear button *sniffs*  
  
Daroga's Rainy Daae – Happy Valentine's Day two days ago! Hope everyone got lots and candy and/or lemon squares.  
  
sweet775 – Yay! That was amusing to someone! I enjoy bringing bread up every few chapters. Because... well, I always did think that five years was a little harsh for a loaf of bread. Valjean should have gotten a fair trial... with Billy Flynn as his lawyer! Even though Valjean's not actually a woman... of course, Gary Morris /sounds/ like a woman... hmm...  
  
Mlle. Verity le Virago – Ah, yes, Microsoft Word is rather uneducated. However, I have typed every Mizzie name I could come up with and taught it to spell check, so I think it's okay with me now... hopefully.  
  
La Pamplemousse – It is a sad day indeed. However, my lovely... in a good way... computer is now educated to the wonders of the GREATEST JAVERT OF ALL TIME!!!!!!!!!!! *wanders off in search of Ritalin*  
  
Weird Kitty - /Another/ person who didn't think that's done too much? Yippee! I'm not an unoriginal copycatter... sort of.  
  
Disclaimer- Les Mis is not mine. But someday, when I take over the world, I'll kidnap a cast of Les Mis and lock them in one of my theatres and force them to re-enact the show for me every day! Don't worry, I'll keep them well fed.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
For a few days, Javert not only took Montparnasse's advice, but he also did not venture past his front door. He no longer had the authority to arrest anyone, and the Patron-Minette was a serious gang.  
  
Dead serious.  
  
Then one morning Javert realized that he was being foolish. The Patron- Minette, come after him for talking to a little boy? It was a ridiculous concept. He refused to be scared into staying holed up in his house just because some pretty-boy murderer had threatened him.  
  
And anyway, he was out of bread.  
  
Javert pulled on his new green greatcoat, wrapped his red scarf around his neck, and headed out for the market.  
  
He didn't get very far.  
  
The first thing Javert saw when he opened his door was an old man with a long beard sitting on the stoop across the street, watching his door.  
  
When Javert stepped out onto the street, the man pulled a knife out of the folds of his ragged clothes and waved it at him, smiling.  
  
Javert tipped his hat and went right back inside.  
  
And he still didn't have any bread.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
The next morning, Javert tried to hire a gamine to go to the market and buy his bread for him. The little girl took his coin, curtsied, and scampered away.  
  
She didn't come back.  
  
"That's the naughty list for Nicolette," Javert sighed to himself.  
  
His eyes widened. "I knew that gamine's name! And I said I would put her on the... the naughty list..." he massaged his forehead. "Maybe I should stay inside for a while."  
  
Javert went to bed early. Before breakfast, in fact.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
Javert awoke to see someone leaning over him, only a few inches from his face. He quickly closed his eyes, hoping that it was a dream. After all, he had not even left the house since Montparnasse had threatened him. There was no reason for the Patron-Minette to be after him.  
  
He slowly opened one eye.  
  
"Bonjour, m'sieur!" Gavroche chirped.  
  
Javert sighed in relief, then gasped as he realized what this could mean. "Why are you here? Do you want your gang to kill me? How'd you get in?"  
  
"Through the back window, and they didn't see me. Anyway, my papa told Parnasse that you ain't left the house since that day in the park, and I wanted to make sure you were still alive. After all, we wouldn't want you to miss your appointment with Bernard, now would we?"  
  
"Appointment? What? It's not November!" Javert spluttered. "A-and anyway, that was a dream, remember? We never went to the North Pole! There /is/ no North Pole," he added quickly.  
  
Gavroche rolled his eyes. "Well, do you need anything, monsieur?"  
  
Javert rolled over and pulled the covers up to his chin. "Bread."  
  
"I'll be back," Gavroche said cheerfully. He scampered away.  
  
It suddenly occurred to Javert that Gavroche had sneaked into his house, promised to get him some bread, and left without taking any money.  
  
"Oh dear," Javert sighed. 


	12. On Pain of Death

A/N- Um... gidday, mates. I'm a happy happy happy camper right now. Actually, I'm sitting here in front of my computer, and am in no way camping. Come to think of it... that's a stupid phrase. But I /am/ happy. ...But now I'm sleepy. And confused.  
  
La Pamplemousse- Aw. How sweet. This Santa-Javert doesn't do snuff (GASP!) because he's afraid if he did it, little kids around the world would try it. And we don't want that, do we Javvie? DO WE? He's not answering.  
  
Elyse3- This one wasn't soon, but after this chapter the plot starts moving again. I promise.  
  
sweet775- Can you picture Valjean in that lampshade dress, knitting? That promises for a few days of laughs... You've never seen The Santa Clause? You poor deprived chap.  
  
Mlle. Verity le Virago- Ironic, yes? But he didn't quite get to the stealing part, so it's all good. (It's all good?)  
  
The Phantom Parisienne- You heart me? Yay! I'm hearted! Why does my computer not question the spelling of 'hearted'?  
  
Disclaimer- I don't own any of the characters in this fic. Wow, that's sad. Wait, I think I own a few random gamines. And Bertrand. Yay!  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Again, Gavroche did not return as promised.  
  
This time, however, it was not the police who stopped him coming back.  
  
Two of the Patron-Minette, namely Babet and Montparnasse, caught Gavroche climbing out the back window and (again) strictly forbade him to visit Javert.  
  
Perhaps a week later, in the middle of October, Javert received a letter on heavy yellow paper that smelled faintly of tobacco.  
  
"Monsieur Javert,  
  
"It has come to our attencion that you have ignored the recuests of one Montparnasse to stop interfeering with one boy Gavroche [here several surnames were marked out]. We, the Patron-Minette, cordiuly recuest that you not acociate again with said boy on pain of death.  
  
"Thank you,  
  
"The Patron-Minette"  
  
Javert stared at the letter. "On pain of death?"  
  
Someone chose this tense moment to knock on the door. The ex-inspector nearly wet himself.  
  
The person knocked again.  
  
Javert held his breath.  
  
"Delivery!" came a child's shout.  
  
Javert sighed and pulled open the door.  
  
A boy with a hat pulled down over his ears stood at the door. Several other children, all wearing hats, were leaning against a fiacre. The Patron-Minette was nowhere in sight.  
  
"We've got quite a few packages for you, monsieur," the boy announced.  
  
Javert nodded, pulling his door open the rest of the way. "Leave them in here. I'm going to buy some bread."  
  
He took off down the street, leaving the strangely clad children to load the packages into his house.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
When Javert opened his front door later that day, he dropped his fresh bread in surprise.  
  
Red boxes were stacked about six feet high throughout his entire entrance hall and most of the stairway. Atop a shorter pile near the door lay a letter.  
  
Hands shaking, Javert pulled the envelope open and unfolded the paper inside.  
  
"Here's the list. Check it twice. Yours, Bernard," he read aloud.  
  
[A/N- Whenever it gets to this scene in the movie I highly enjoy shouting "NO HE'S NOT YOURS HE'S MINE!" much to the terror and utter confusion of my parents.]  
  
Javert yanked the top off the nearest box. Inside he found a huge stack of papers with names of countless children listed in alphabetical order by last name. He read off person.  
  
"Abbas, Ana? ...It /is/ the list!" he gasped.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
It took Javert a few weeks to get the papers read through and put away. As a matter of fact, he wasn't able to get in his bedroom again for three days.  
  
It was November when Javert's thoughts turned again to Gavroche. The most he had seen of the boy was "Thénardier, Gavroche," printed on the naughty list. Javert had made sure that it was moved.  
  
He frowned at the snow falling onto the street. There was no way around it – Javert missed the boy.  
  
Seeing no murderers in the street, Javert donned his green greatcoat and resolutely tramped out the door into the snow.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
The giant elephant statue was somehow serene against a backdrop of snowflakes. Javert leaned against one of the immense legs and waited for some sign of Gavroche.  
  
He did not have to wait long. Javert began to hear the sound of a little voice singing above him somewhere. He craned his neck and could see cracks of light around the sides of the board that covered the hole in the elephant's belly.  
  
Javert packed a little snowball and lobbed it at the plank. It made a satisfying sort of a splatting sound and moved the board a few inches to the side.  
  
The singing stopped abruptly. The plank was pushed aside and Gavroche's voice called, "Navet? It that you?"  
  
Javert cleared his throat. "Not quite!" he called back.  
  
Almost before Javert had finished speaking, Gavroche had shimmied down the leg of the elephant and thrown his arms around Javert (a rather difficult task). "Monsieur Javert! I knew you'd come back over here!"  
  
"I got a letter from your friends, Gavroche."  
  
The gamin's eyes widened. "On pain of death?"  
  
Javert nodded.  
  
"Quick! Get out of here! The gang-"  
  
"And we meet again," interrupted the cold voice of Montparnasse.  
  
"...lives right nearby," Gavroche finished weakly.  
  
"I wish I'd known that before," Javert sighed.  
  
Montparnasse was fingering the pocket of his coat. "How did I know that you would be back? My dear, dear monsieur, was our letter not clear enough? We meant it when we said 'on pain of death.'"  
  
"I was just... telling Gavroche goodbye. You see, I'm moving... to... Calais," Javert lied.  
  
"You were saying goodbye?"  
  
Nod.  
  
"Say it then. I'm going to get the others. You have until I return to be gone."  
  
Montparnasse stalked away, his smashed top hat and tails fading into the night.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Yay! We're makin' progress here! I promise the next chapter will be more than threats to Javert's life. 


	13. ReEntry

A/N- Huzzah! The plot has moved itself and IT'S ANOTHER SNOWDAY! Yay snow days!  
  
The Phantom Parisienne- Ooh, that is vile. My computer I named Bamatabois because he's quite obnoxious. I named my printer Grantaire cos he doesn't work very well.  
  
Mage Arod- Don't think so, bout Enjy, Marius, or R. But YAY! Another reviewer! I mean... another reader. Yeah, that's it.  
  
sweet775- This is one of my favorite parts... eep! Yeah...  
  
Elyse3- Hey, that's a cool quote. And watch for plot progression here! Yay!  
  
Mlle. Verity le Virago- Doesn't it, though? I think the purpose of this story was to create odd images.  
  
La Pamplemousse- AH! That made me laugh so hard...  
  
Disclaimer- If you think I own Les Mis in any way other than a large, large amount of paraphernalia lying about in my room, you are much mistaken and not quite obsessed enough with Les Mis to realize that HUGO IS ...dead... *sniffle* I barely knew him... k, I didn't know him.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
"Monsieur, you're moving to Calais?" Gavroche asked, eyes wide.  
  
"No, Gavroche, but the Patron-Minette is scaring me to death. I... think you ought to stay here."  
  
"Where are you going, then?"  
  
Javert ran a hand over his white beard. "Nowhere, I guess."  
  
"What about the North Pole? You know that you're Père Noël!"  
  
"Gavroche, listen-"  
  
"You listen! You think you're just a regular person? You're not! You're Father Christmas, monsieur!"  
  
"Gavroche, it was a dream! I'm not-"  
  
"I was there! I saw it! The elves are real old, even though they look like me! I stole the snow globe from the bedroom..." Gavroche produced the snow globe from inside the tattered bag hanging from his shoulder. "Right, monsieur?"  
  
Javert frowned. It had been a dream! He'd been telling himself it was a dream ever since last Christmas, nearly a year ago. But the arrival of the list had shaken things up a little... and there was no denying his drastic change in appearance...  
  
"Remember!" Gavroche cried, tossing the snow globe to Javert.  
  
Javert caught it and turned it upside down, watching the snow fall onto the little house inside the glass. Then, as if by magic, he saw smoke rising from the little chimney and a miniature sleigh with eight tiny reindeer flying across the sky. This was no toy! Javert gaped. Could it have all been true?  
  
Gavroche was staring hopefully at Javert, who smiled and handed the snow globe back. The gamin hugged him again, and Javert laid a hand on his head. "I'd better go, Gavroche. I don't want to be here when your friends come back."  
  
"I'll get some stuff!" Gavroche grinned, leaping to the leg of the elephant.  
  
"N- no, wait – Gavroche!" the boy dropped back to the ground. "I think you'd better stay here."  
  
"But I wanna go with you, monsieur!"  
  
Javert smiled again and patted the gamin on the shoulder.  
  
"Does that mean I can go?" Gavroche asked.  
  
The two heard a faint jingle of bells, and a voice came from behind them: "Boy, this snow is deep. Haven't you people heard of shovels?"  
  
"Bernard!" Gavroche shrieked.  
  
Indeed, the sexy head elf had arrived oh-so-magically, for it was November. Javert shook his head. An elf was undeniable evidence that he was Père Noël. He, Javert!  
  
"Heya, sport," Bernard said to Gavroche.  
  
"Bernard, can I go with you? Please, can I go?" the boy begged.  
  
Bernard looked to Javert and shrugged. "S'okay with me."  
  
/\/\/\  
  
Montparnasse, Babet, Claquesous, Gueulemer, and Brujon approached the elephant statue from different sides.  
  
"Gavroche? Is he gone?" Montparnasse called.  
  
There was no answer.  
  
"Gavroche?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Gavroche! GAVROCHE!"  
  
The boy and the ex-inspector had disappeared into thin air.  
  
"He's dead, isn't he?" asked the voice of a man who could not be seen.  
  
"He will be, now he's got Parnasse mad at him," laughed the large and rather frighteningly muscled Gueulemer.  
  
Babet, a thin and frail looking man, cackled.  
  
Montparnasse glared at them all. Under this wrath, even Gueulemer was quiet.  
  
"I think it's time we polished a dagger or two, gang," the young man said.  
  
The murderers whooped and dissolved into the sewers. 


	14. From Thanksgiving to Christmas

A/N- Yay! That was a fun chapter! Bernard... he's just the coolest. Oh, this has nothing to do with anything, but LOTR WON ALL 11 OSCARS! Yay! Sadly, this left nothing for poor, sweet, Pirates. I am torn.  
  
Elyse3- Isn't he just a cutie? I'm afraid that update was so quick that some people didn't realize I actually had updated.  
  
La Pamplemousse- I love the Patron-Minette, can't you tell? They are the greatest... ESPECIALLY PARNASSE!  
  
Mlle. Verity le Virago- Literally. Ah well, he could go adopt one of Gavroche's brothers... they're probably hanging around somewhere.  
  
Disclaimer- Nope.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
At the North Pole, Javert and Bernard were taking the same tour of the factory that Gavroche and Larry had taken almost a year earlier. Javert was admiring the progress the elves had made since his previous visit.  
  
"Gavroche has got some great ideas for the workshop," Bernard was saying.  
  
"Gavroche? Why does he have better ideas than you guys? You're professionals, right? He's just a boy," Javert interrupted.  
  
"He's been out in the streets more, obviously. He's seen what kids like and he's sort of a... fresh new mind to the team, if that makes sense."  
  
Javert nodded.  
  
"Santa, this is Quentin, head of research and development," Bernard said, motioning toward an elf with a long, blond braid down his back.  
  
"Quentin, good to meet you."  
  
The elf shook Javert's extended hand. "Hallo, Santa. Gavroche and I have been working on some new ideas on how to keep you safe."  
  
"Excellent."  
  
"This is some of the best stuff that's come out of the workshop since... the ball!" Bernard explained before he took off again.  
  
"Wait a minute," Javert cried, running after him. "What do I do if I fall off a roof?"  
  
/\/\/\  
  
The Patron-Minette met in a rotten old building. Thénardier stood before the others.  
  
"We'll circle off around the boy's elephant. Now, Javert is to be caught and brought to Montparnasse. And remember: he'll probably... be dressed like Père Noël."  
  
Several of the gang snorted.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
[Cue ZZ Top's "Gimme All Your Lovin'"]  
  
/\/\/\  
  
Javert stood before several of the elves, modeling the Santa suit that now fit him perfectly.  
  
"Very nice," Larry nodded.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
Montparnasse leaned against the leg of the elephant statue. He found that he was very worried about Gavroche. Any man who would go through so much trouble just to make a little boy love him must have some ulterior motive.  
  
The Patron-Minette grabbed a man dressed as Père Noël and wrestled him to the street.  
  
Montparnasse dashed toward them, looked at the man, and shook his head.  
  
"Sh'not even my shuit..." the man whined drunkenly. "I shtole it from Laigle. I shaid whatsh a revolution without Chrishmash cheer?"  
  
The gang shoved the man away.  
  
"Drunk," Thénardier said accusingly.  
  
Montparnasse picked up a brown sack the man had dropped. "This yours?"  
  
The drunk grabbed for it. "Yeah, shmine! Gimme!"  
  
Curiously, Parnasse opened the sack. "There's nothing in here but bottles of absinthe!"  
  
"Sho? Gimme it! It'sh Chrishmash cheer!"  
  
Montparnasse threw the bag at the man and stalked off.  
  
"Yeah, well Merry Chrishmash to you too!" he shouted.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
Javert in his red suit, Bernard, Gavroche, Judy, Quentin, and Larry marched solemnly down a long hall.  
  
Javert, formerly infamous for his rigid obsession with the law and doing what was right, found that he was rather enjoying this suit.  
  
He looked down. The white fur lining and bright red trim... it was a good look for him. Javert straightened the fur collar a little.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
The Patron-Minette met again in the old building.  
  
"Tomorrow's Christmas," Thénardier reminded the group. "What better time to catch that Javert?"  
  
Montparnasse nodded. "Do you think he'd come here?"  
  
"Well, we haven't exactly been good little boys," Babet pointed out.  
  
"The boy likes you, Parnasse," the creepy voice of the ventriloquist said. "I'll bet he made a present for you."  
  
"That's right, Claquesous. Maybe the man will be stupid enough to bring it here. I remember last year Gavroche didn't have a present for me. He felt so bad he gave me one of his."  
  
"Stupid kid," muttered Gueulemer.  
  
"He's a good boy," Montparnasse corrected him sharply. "He was fun to have around. Helpful to the gang-"  
  
"Anyway," Thénardier interrupted. "If you wanna catch this man, Parnasse, me and you'll go to the elephant. Babet and Gueulemer can stay here. Claquesous?"  
  
"I'll be busy tonight."  
  
"Fine. That's the plan. Alright, let's go!"  
  
Montparnasse and Thénardier went to guard the elephant, leaving Babet and Gueulemer at the headquarters.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
Javert and Gavroche sat in the sleigh. Elves stood on all sides, waiting for takeoff.  
  
"On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer, on Vixen!" Gavroche cried.  
  
He turned to Javert.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You say the rest," the boy insisted.  
  
Javert rolled his eyes. "On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner, on Blitzen," he said quickly.  
  
The reindeer took off with Gavroche leaning over the side, calling goodbye to the elves.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
In a few moments, the sleigh was flying over Paris.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Weird Kitty, here comes your big re-entrance! Yay and huzzah to all that review. I shall have Grantaire send you a bottle of Cyber-Magical-Non- Alcoholic-Absinthe-of-Chrishmash-Cheer for every review!  
  
Click da button. 


	15. Barricade Boys

A/N- Ah! Much Chrishmash cheer to be distributed. Here goes:  
  
Elyse3- Yay! More barricade boys to come! And the barricade girl.  
  
La Pamplemousse- Ah yes, Martian Chrishmash cheer is the best kind. (Martian being In March, not from Mars...)  
  
Mage Arod- I changed me mind. Here comes some of em!  
  
Bubonic Woodchuck- I do believe I created this story for to give everyone a mental image of Javert as Santa. Or maybe just so I'd have complete and ultimate control over Bernard. Not sure.  
  
Mlle. Verity le Virago- Ah, yes. I look forward to the day when those sane people are the minority in the world... as for giving you Montparnasse, that's a no cos he's MINE! And so is Bernard. No, I do not wish to make a choice. I'll take both and Sam Gamgee, please. Hold the mustard.  
  
Disclaimer- I don't own Weird Kitty. She owns herself. I don't own any of the characters in this chapter EXCEPT BERNARD! Okay, I don't own him either. Darn.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
The reindeer landed on the roof of one of the buildings, and Javert allowed the sack to lift him up out of the sleigh and lower him into the chimney.  
  
He recognized the house and the girl asleep on the couch immediately. As Javert was putting another crate of parchment under the tree, the girl on the couch sat up.  
  
"Go back to sleep, Kitty," Javert whispered. "You and your Jehan have plenty of presents."  
  
She smiled sleepily. "Your fatter this year."  
  
"Thank you. Close your eyes."  
  
Kitty obliged. Javert noticed a mug on the table near the fireplace, and quickly drank the milk inside.  
  
But it wasn't milk.  
  
He couldn't help but gag a little, causing Kitty to sit back up. "What's wrong?"  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"Rum. You said you didn't like milk, remember? You said it was for children."  
  
Javert put a hand to his forehead. "I did say that, didn't I? Now, go to sleep."  
  
/\/\/\  
  
When he landed in the next house, the first thing Javert noticed was the lack of furniture in the room. It was almost entirely bare but for a tree on one side and a cot on the other.  
  
The occupant of the house was awake. "Oh wow!" he shouted. "Père Noël!"  
  
Javert smiled. "Lie back down. I brought the vest you wanted."  
  
The young man refused to lie down until he was sure that the red vest was under the tree.  
  
"I love red. I always have. I'm glad you wear red. Laigle had a suit like yours, but I don't know what happened to it. Thank you so much for the vest!"  
  
"You're welcome. Go to sleep now, Enjolras. Good luck with the revolution."  
  
/\/\/\  
  
[Just one more]  
  
Javert had just climbed out of the stove in a small apartment building. Inside the bag was a Louis d'or and a handkerchief with the initials "UF" embroidered in the corner.  
  
"Okay," he whispered. "That's creative."  
  
After leaving the coin and kerchief on the dresser, Javert looked over at the young man. He was very handsome.  
  
"Poor Marius," he sighed. "Absolutely doltish."  
  
Javert went into the next room, but stopped when he saw its occupants. "Thénardiers," he muttered. "Best of the lot is Gavroche, of course. Then there're his two sisters. The older one wants a human for Christmas, but I can't do that, even if she hadn't been... sinning... with that boy Montparnasse. The younger wants a new family. Can't do that either, plus she's a thief."  
  
He turned to walk away, but at the last minute allowed a few coins to fall out of his pocket and onto the floor.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
In the sleigh, Gavroche tapped Javert on the arm. "Can we go to the Patron- Minette's headquarters next? I made Parnasse a present in the workshop."  
  
"Sure," Javert nodded.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
Babet and Gueulemer silently approached Javert from behind as he was kneeling by the fireplace, extracting presents from his bag.  
  
Javert suddenly felt metal pressed to his neck. "Don't move, Javert," someone hissed.  
  
The two murderers bound his wrists and ankles securely, then left to get the others.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
Gavroche saw Babet and Gueulemer leaving the building. "Just wait," Babet grinned. "When the devil's playmate comes, old fatty in there'll cop it!"  
  
Gueulemer laughed darkly.  
  
As soon as they were out of earshot, Gavroche began to inspect the situation. There was no way down from the roof. The bag that lifted Javert up and down chimneys was inside the building.  
  
He rushed to the little control panel on the sleigh and pressed the red button. Bernard's voice came from a speaker. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Santa's been tied up by the gang and they're going to get Parnasse and he's gonna kill him!"  
  
He heard Quentin's voice from the background. "Time to deploy E.L.F.S.?"  
  
There was a moment of silence, and then the sound of a bell tolling.  
  
"Don't worry, sport," Bernard's voice said. "E.L.F.S. is on their way." 


	16. ELFS

A/N- Yay! The story's getting somewhere!  
  
La Pamplemousse- I had to do it. They were just saying "Puuuut meee innn theee stoooooryyyyyy..." so I did. Glad it wasn't too choppy.  
  
Elyse3- Little pieces...that's what I was worried about. Apparently it worked out for the best then. I thought it might end up being a tad choppy.  
  
Danica Enjolras- Cry not! I decided to update on a Wednesday for no apparent reason! Wheee!  
  
DragonLadyChauvelin- I'm sorry it doesn't work out for you. I know he went through a massive character change and is now hardly recognizable as our dear old Javvie, but there was no other way the story would work.  
  
Disclaimer- *sigh* I don't own any of the characters you shall see in this chapter... not even Bernard. Or Montparnasse. Ooh... they're both so awesome... and lovable...  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
It was not long before several elves wearing green outfits landed on the roof next to Gavroche.  
  
"Are you the E.L.F.S.?" the gamin asked.  
  
"Elf Liberation Flight Squad, that's us," answered a cocky elf who seemed to be the leader of the group. "You ready to save Santa?"  
  
"We can't," Gavroche sighed. "I can't fly."  
  
"Take hold of my hand." Gavroche did. "Now hold on tight. And remember – don't try this at home."  
  
"I don't have a home," Gavroche protested, but no one heard.  
  
The elf jumped off the edge of the roof with the gamin in tow and the others not far behind. To Gavroche's amazement, he could fly too, as long as he held onto an elf's hand. They landed on the ground in front of the old building.  
  
"D'you know where Santa is?" the E.L.F.S. leader asked.  
  
Gavroche shook his head, but rushed into the building anyway. The E.L.F.S. followed.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
They found Javert in a room at the top floor of the building.  
  
"Oh, Gavroche! Thank goodness! And elves!" Javert sighed.  
  
The E.L.F.S. soon had him untied. "See you at the North Pole, Santa," the leader said before they all left.  
  
"Well, Gavroche," Javert smiled, "are you ready to get on with this thing?"  
  
Gavroche opened his mouth to answer, but immediately closed it and hushed Javert.  
  
The Patron-Minette had come back. He could hear their voices outside the window.  
  
"Yeah, and he's up here, Parnasse!" Gueulemer was saying.  
  
"You've done good, men," announced Thénardier's voice.  
  
"Let me go up first and talk to him," Montparnasse said suddenly.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"There are a few things he should know before he meets his maker, get it?"  
  
There were a few chuckles from the rest of the group and an agreement.  
  
"Don't come till I call you, alright? I won't be too long."  
  
Javert and Gavroche heard Montparnasse's light footsteps ascending the stair. The door swung open and they found themselves face to face with the murderer.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Heehee! 'Twas a very short chapter. I don't feel creative anymore, and it's almost my bedtime. Must... sleep... 


	17. Javert Surprises All

A/N- Sorry bout that. I'm back! Wheee! I was grounded and then my computer broke. Yuck. I thought about you the whole time I was gone, I promise! I even had a fanfiction.net related dream! It was... well, I dreamed my brother somehow got into my account at fanfiction.net and from there somehow updated Elyse3's stories with really bad chapters and everyone was mad at me and I tried to explain it wasn't me... 'Twas my first ever fanfic related dream.  
  
Neila Nuruodo the Chiss- I had some troubles attempting to answer that question. Ah, well, I've done it and... here it is! Thanks for the multiple reviews.  
  
Altenq- Yes, the 98 movie. It's EEVIL. But watch it anyway. Thanks for the review, of course. It was lovely and helpful.  
  
La Pamplemousse- This one isn't really, really long, but it's a chapter.  
  
Mlle. Verity le Virago- Modern Jehan? Sure, take. Yes, I love harassing Javert – can you tell?  
  
Cecilia Carlton- Someone reviewed a long time ago and requested I do the Enjy bit. Glad they did, cos it was fun.  
  
sweet775- Clock tower...! I went to Florida three years ago, and I guess I saw it. I know I rode the ride, but I don't remember much at all cos I wasn't obsessed then. DARN MY TIMING!  
  
Disclaimer- I own none of them... uh... I found someone who's hotter than Bernard... but the thing that stinks is he's of the type of person known as "real," which I don't have a lot of experience with. And he has a girlfriend. And he's two years older than I am. And he doesn't know I exist. But he will! Muahahaha! I have a plan! Okay, I have two plans, but one involves murdering his girlfriend. So I think I'll stick with the other one, which involves getting in the Advanced Orchestra: something I can do without getting arrested.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
At first, Montparnasse ignored the fact that Javert had escaped his bonds.  
  
"Gavroche! Oh, I was worried about you, boy! Are you alright?"  
  
Gavroche nodded. "Listen, Parnasse-"  
  
"And you!" Montparnasse said, his face darkening.  
  
Javert looked up. "Huh? I was just leaving."  
  
"I'll get my stuff!" Gavroche cried, turning to leave.  
  
Montparnasse made a move to stop him, but Javert grabbed the boy first. "Wait, Gavroche... I think it's a better idea if you stay here with... with the Patron-Minette..."  
  
Montparnasse and Gavroche stared at him. "Really?"  
  
Javert cleared his throat nervously. "I... yes. Yes, I think so... uh..."  
  
"You want the boy to stay... with me and the rest?"  
  
"Y-yes... I- I think... I mean, yes. Yes, he should stay with... with you and with the...the gang."  
  
No one spoke for a moment, waiting for this bizarre decision to sink in – or perhaps, as was the case of Gavroche, waiting to wake up. Nothing happened, of course. Javert remained by the empty fireplace, fidgeting with the sack. Montparnasse stood by the door, forgetting to reach for the knife in his pocket. Gavroche stood completely still, eyes enormously wide, staring at Javert. He finally moved. "M-m'sieur?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Gavroche, but I think you should stay here. I mean, you're a great help at the North Pole and I... I... I enjoy having you around... but don't you remember Paris? At the North Pole you couldn't run through the streets barefoot, throw rocks through peoples' front windows, live in a thing as neat as your elephant... Gavroche, don't you love your freedom?"  
  
"But... but I want to be with you, m'sieur."  
  
Javert shook his head. "No... you'd get homesick after a while. You can't just take a boy off the streets and keep him in a place like the workshop. Listen... I'll come visit you every Christmas, I promise!"  
  
Montparnasse stood still in the doorway. Javert looked to him. "Is that alright with you?"  
  
Eyes wide, the murderer nodded slowly.  
  
Gavroche threw his arms around Javert's waist. "I'll miss you too much!"  
  
Javert looked mildly uncomfortable. "I'll miss you too. Don't worry, I promise I'll wake you up whenever I come on Christmas. Trust me, you have a permanent place on the nice list."  
  
Bernard the elf suddenly wandered into the room. "What's all this whining going on in here?"  
  
Montparnasse made a peculiar sound and flattened himself against the wall. Bernard nodded to him. "Hey, how ya doin'?"  
  
Javert forced down a smile. "Nothing, Bernard, I'm just saying goodbye to Gavroche."  
  
"What goodbye? Gavroche, you've still got the ball you took from the workshop, right?"  
  
Gavroche's cheeks turned red. "Yeah..."  
  
"Well, all ya gotta do is shake it whenever you wanna see Santa."  
  
"Really?" Gavroche asked, eyes wide.  
  
"He can come back to see ya anytime, day or night," Bernard declared. "Hey, have I ever steered ya wrong?"  
  
Gavroche shook his head.  
  
The lovely head elf was suddenly distracted by Montparnasse's hat.  
  
"Nice top hat... hey, did we make this?" Bernard took the smashed hat off of the robber's head and began inspecting the inside for a tag.  
  
Montparnasse said absolutely nothing. He grabbed his hat back and looked desperately at the ceiling. Bernard disappeared in a shower of sparks.  
  
"Hey... where'd he go?" Montparnasse rushed outside in search of Bernard with Gavroche close behind.  
  
Javert smiled after them, said a word to his sack full of presents, and was pulled up the chimney. 


	18. Ties

A/N- Ah! 100 reviews! And more! I'm feeling the love! This really makes up for the lack of response I'm getting for Legeo & Gimliet in the LOTR category. I LOVE EVERYONE WHO HAS EVERY REVIEWED THIS FIC, EVEN THE TWO WHO FLAMED ME!  
  
Mlle Verity le Virago- Too short? Yeah, this chapter is way longer. The last one will be very, very short. Ah well... I play the viola. So does my Squishy. Muahahaha! I shall be his stand partner!  
  
Altenq- Yay! A sack of Grantaire's Chrishmash Cheer for my hundredth reviewer! Nope, I don't think Bernard's as afraid of dear old Parnasse as he should be.  
  
Elyse3- Yes, be very honored! The odd LM dreams: will they ever end?  
  
Disclaimer- I own none of the characters appearing in this chapter. I do own The Santa Clause on VHS, but it's all messed up and the picture jumps around. Dang.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
-MUCH LATER-  
  
Gavroche stared at the ruckus, wide-eyed. A revolution – what fun! He grabbed the magic ball and shoved it into his little bag, shimmied down the leg of his elephant, and joined the crowd in the streets.  
  
Some fellow called General Lamarque had died, so a bunch of men were going to fight the government and win freedom! No more dodging the police, no more empty stomach! Gavroche was ready to fight.  
  
He needed to be armed.  
  
It didn't take too long to find something, for a store nearby had a gun displayed in the window. Gavroche broke the glass and took the weapon happily.  
  
It was not until he had already joined the mob that Gavroche realized he might be killed. After all, that was what happened in uprisings – people died. He should tell someone where he was going...  
  
Ducking into an alley, Gavroche extracted the snow globe from his bag and shook it. Within a few minutes, he heard a vague jingle of bells and Bernard appeared with Javert. "Heya, sport."  
  
"Hi Bernard. M'sieur, I thought you should know that I'm going to join the insurrection."  
  
Javert frowned. "Why?"  
  
"Nothing else to do. It looks like fun. In case... in case I get shot, m'sieur, I wanted you to know so you wouldn't be too upset. That's all, bye!"  
  
"No! Gavroche, wait! Gavroche-"  
  
The boy had dissolved into the mob. Javert rolled his eyes heavenward. "Lovely. Just lovely."  
  
"Whatcha gonna do?" Bernard asked.  
  
Javert sighed. "Follow him, I guess."  
  
"Want me to come?"  
  
"No... you can go back to the workshop. You're in charge till I come back."  
  
Bernard nodded. "Gotcha."  
  
Javert, too, joined the insurrection.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
The men had built a barricade, which Javert climbed with difficulty. He reached the other side and began searching for Gavroche everywhere, but could not find him.  
  
The gamin, sitting next to the leader of the revolution, noticed Javert. "It's not possible!" he gasped. "Us little people, we should never trust the big! Especially that one! I don't believe it!"  
  
"What don't you believe?" asked Enjolras.  
  
"He shouldn't be here," Gavroche cried, pointing to Javert.  
  
Enjolras's ears perked up. "Why not?"  
  
"He used to be in the police, you know. Name's Javert. He's Santa now."  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"Of course! I didn't think he'd follow me here!"  
  
Enjolras abruptly left Gavroche's company and whispered something to another man. Within a few moments several revolutionaries had Javert surrounded.  
  
"Who are you?" Enjolras asked him.  
  
Javert looked up at him, then down at his own red clothes and white beard. "Oh... I see how it is... Yes, I am. Did you like the vest?"  
  
"You're of the police?"  
  
"I was a representative of the law... once."  
  
"And your name?"  
  
"Javert," answered he. What did this have to do with Père Noël being at the barricades?  
  
Enjolras nodded at the other men. Before Javert had time to move, he was seized, overpowered, and bound.  
  
Gavroche saw none of this.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
The revolution was failing. Javert, tied to a table in the café, could hear the gunshots and cries. He was rather uncomfortable here, but there was no way to contact the elves with his arms bound.  
  
The oddest bit of all was that Javert had seen Jean Valjean, the man he had spent the first part of his life pursuing, here at the barricades. The revolutionaries had, at his request, been transferring their prisoner from the pole where he'd been tied to the table when Javert had looked up and seen the convict standing in the doorway. He'd given up chasing Valjean long ago when he'd found the man's name on the nice list.  
  
The sounds of battle suddenly ceased, and Javert heard little Gavroche's voice singing.  
  
"They're ugly at Nanterre, it's the fault of Voltaire! And stupid at Palaiseau, all because of Rousseau!"  
  
There was a gunshot. Javert's eyes widened. The opposition had apparently missed him, for the gamin did not stop singing.  
  
"I'm no lawyer, I declare, it's the fault of Voltaire! I'm nothing but a sparrow all because of Rousseau!"  
  
Another shot, but the song still continued.  
  
"There's joy in the air thanks to Voltaire! But misery below, so says Rousseau."  
  
Javert listened as this went on for a while. It seemed that Gavroche was mocking the National Guard with his song.  
  
A rifle fired again, and the song stopped. Several of the revolutionaries gasped, and Javert strained his ears. What had happened?  
  
"He's alright," someone gasped. "It's not fatal!" The song began again.  
  
"I have fallen, I swear it's the fault of Voltaire! Or else this hard blow has been dealt by-"  
  
Another shot, and Gavroche sang no more.  
  
Two young men, covered in blood, carried the boy's body into the room where Javert was tied, lying him on the table with the body of an old man. They covered both with a black shawl.  
  
Javert gaped at the two lifeless bodies on the table.  
  
Gavroche was dead.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
A few hours had passed, and it was obvious that the barricade was going to fall. Enjolras announced to the revolutionaries that Javert was going to be shot.  
  
Someone offered to do the job. Javert turned his head and saw Valjean receiving Enjolras's permission and musket.  
  
No one objected.  
  
Not even Javert.  
  
They left the café and climbed the smaller barricade. As he passed Enjolras, Javert said morbidly, "It won't be too long."  
  
The young man watched him leave silently.  
  
In the alley, Javert sighed and braced himself for the shot.  
  
It did not come.  
  
Jean Valjean released him.  
  
Javert turned to leave, but then stopped. "I'd rather you kill me," he awkwardly to Valjean.  
  
"Clear out" was the response.  
  
Javert did.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
Montparnasse. The thought hit Javert from nowhere.  
  
The Patron-Minette will want to know what happened.  
  
He decided to find them.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
It was evening when Javert found Thénardier on a sandy strip of bank by the Seine. He tried to catch up with the robber to tell him about his son's cruel fate, but Thénardier escaped into the sewer grating.  
  
Javert waited.  
  
A moment later, a different man emerged from this same sewer, covered in blood and muck and carrying another man on his back. Javert stared at the pair. "Who are you?"  
  
"Myself," the man answered.  
  
"Who is that?"  
  
"Jean Valjean."  
  
Javert blinked. Couldn't Valjean just disappear as he had done so many times before? Why was this man always in his way?  
  
Leaning forward, holding Valjean by the shoulders, Javert stared into his dirty face. Yes, it was Jean Valjean.  
  
"Inspector Javert, you have got me. In any case, since this morning I have considered myself your prisoner. I did not give you my address in order to escape from you. But grant me one thing."  
  
Javert heard nothing after the word "inspector." This man still thought him to be of the police! He frowned at the sky. Valjean believed that Javert was still after him!  
  
"What are you doing here?" Javert asked suddenly. Then, motioning to the fellow Valjean had been carrying, "Who is this man?"  
  
"It is about him I wished to speak," Valjean answered. "You may do what you like with me, but help me first to take him home. That is all I ask."  
  
Javert's face twitched. This stupid criminal could not see that he had more important things on his mind! Javert pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dipped it into the river, and then put it against the unconscious man's forehead. When a bit of the muck was cleared away, he was recognizable.  
  
"He was at the barricade," Javert muttered, checking for a pulse. "The one called Marius."  
  
"He's wounded," Valjean explained.  
  
"He's dead."  
  
"No. Not yet."  
  
"You brought him here from the barricade?"  
  
Valjean did not seem to hear the question. "He lives in the Marais, Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, with a relative whose name I forget." He found a paper in the boy's wallet and handed it to Javert.  
  
"Gillenormand, 6 Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire."  
  
Javert took the unconscious Marius to his home. When the fussy old women had carried the bloody revolutionary into the house, Valjean requested that he might go to his own home for only a minute. Javert rolled his eyes – of course Valjean could go home! He had no more interest in arresting him.  
  
As soon as Valjean was out of sight, Javert left. He walked through the lamplit streets of Paris, putting together all of the things that had happened in this one day.  
  
He had found Valjean, something that would have delighted him before his entire life had turned around on that Christmas eve at the police station.  
  
Gavroche, the boy who had brought about this change and helped Javert to discover the life he was missing, was dead.  
  
Dead.  
  
Javert found himself at the river Seine. He leaned on the railing and stared into the swollen water.  
  
He never had been able to admit to himself that he really cared for Gavroche. So many years of being the impassive and heartless first class inspector had been hard to overcome.  
  
Now Gavroche was gone, and Javert could have saved him. Couldn't he? He had most of the world's magic on his side! Would it have really been that difficult to just ask for Bernard's help, just this once? His pride had killed Gavroche.  
  
Javert went to the small police building near the Pont-Neuf and found a pen and paper. He scribbled down a line or two from memory, then folded the paper and took it with him outside. Again he went to the edge of the bridge and stared into the river.  
  
What else could he do?  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Ugh, that chapter was as long as the last two put together! Oh well. The fic ain't over, chilluns! I've got one more chappie up me sleeve!  
  
I'll miss this story. 


	19. Epilogue

A/N- I shall miss this fic! Yes, this is my final update. The story is over. *sobs uncontrollably* I love you all! Goodbye, fat Javert!  
  
Mlle. Verity le Virago- Hahaha! You shall see!  
  
La Pamplemousse- Yes, I've turned the whole fic around. Beware.  
  
Alteng- Actually, you may be right. I've seen three Gavroches onstage, and none of them could sing. All, however, were adorable, and only one was a horrible actor. Ick – Andrew Hoeft.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
If Bernard were not an elf, he would have sworn. As it was, the only thing he could was "JUNK!"  
  
Several other elves heard this and hurried into the room. "What's wrong?"  
  
Judy's eyes were wide. "The whole workshop heard that," she whispered.  
  
"Well, Santa's gone and killed himself! Who'll we get now?"  
  
"Killed himself?" Larry repeated.  
  
"That's what I said, isn't it?"  
  
Quentin spoke. "He didn't have children?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"What about Gavroche?"  
  
Bernard rolled his eyes. "How old was he, Quentin? Santa has to be more than seven years old!"  
  
"Is Gavroche seven?" Larry frowned.  
  
"WAS Gavroche seven," Bernard corrected him. "He's dead, too."  
  
"My goodness, what happened?" Judy gasped. "Is it the second coming?"  
  
"No... some revolution. You remember Enjolras, the boy who asked for something red every year?"  
  
Many of the elves rolled their eyes and nodded.  
  
"He started it. Dead."  
  
"So... everyone's dead?" someone asked.  
  
"Just about."  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
"Why would Javert just up and kill himself without leaving word to somebody?"  
  
Bernard turned in the direction from which the voice had come. "Say that again."  
  
"Uh... why would Javert just up and kill himself without leaving word to somebody?"  
  
"That's it! You've got it!"  
  
Bernard dissolved into a shower of sparks.  
  
"What have I got?" the elf asked.  
  
Quentin rolled his eyes. "No telling."  
  
/\/\/\  
  
It was almost morning in Paris, and Bernard knew that Javert's body would soon be found a ways down the river. He looked around the bridge where Santa had spent the last few moments of his life.  
  
A heavy rock sat on the rail. Bernard lifted it and found a folded piece of paper underneath. Inside was scrawled only one line in Javert's rigid script:  
  
"Pontmercy, 6 Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire. –Javert"  
  
"Pontmercy, eh?" Bernard said, quickly memorizing the address. "I'll look him up." 


End file.
